Logs:Another One Bites the Dust
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| RL Date: 8 September, 2015 |
| Who: N'rov, E'dre |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: E'dre follows up and punishes N'rov for his fight with Nala (or Nala's fight with N'rov). Either way, the Acting Weyrleader is not pleased. |
| Where: Weyrleader's Office, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: C'stian/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Nala/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
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| E'dre should have allowed more time to cool his temper but fueled by Wroth's snarling, he allows the brown to send out his thoughts towards Vhaeryth. « Come to the office. Now. » A demand, with a shuddering of thunder sounding in the distance. « Don't be stupid and you come. Send your rider » the brown clarifies, not trusting a bronze's mind to work the details out on his own. E'dre's within his office, anger still writ all over his face as he stares with expectation at a door only recently vacated by Nala. Now? Of course Wroth (or E'dre, but let's face it, Wroth) would have to pick a time when Vhaeryth's not even, if just about, half-oiled. There's muttering, the rumble of some metallic reverberation, and it's not long before N'rov himself is heading into said office, his old short-sleeved shirt slick here and there with the stuff. "Yeah, I'm here." "Sit down," E'dre points to the chair in front of him, not offering a smile or seeming anything like the usual man that presents to N'rov. "Nala's just left. I got little to no explanation from her. She's grounded." His temper is clear as he allows his scowl to settle. "You care to tell me what happened? She told me you annoyed her," he grinds that word out, "and I tried making up my mind on how to handle this since N'muir told me about it." Vhaeryth's itchy. Vhaeryth's very happy to relay some of that itchiness, creeping up between the shoulderblades. N'rov's not immune; his twitch, and he reaches back to scratch before dropping down into the seat. "That would be it," he says. "Do you know why she gets pissed so easily?" E'dre's not in the mood to talk about Nala directly - there's a reason for that by the tightening of his lips at N'rov's question but he doesn't elaborate. "I want to know why she hit you, N'rov. I don't want to discuss her reasons. Tell me what happened. I want a report. I don't want to deal with the gossip of the holders I had to speak to nor on the words I had with N'muir." N'rov nods, brief; he squares his shoulders the way he might if he were standing and squaring his stance as well. "We were harvesting with the scythes, riders put off to what I understand was the less... fragile part of the harvest. We were talking; she told me to shut up, and you know how well that works; next thing I know, she's going at me. With the handle of the scythe," he's careful to specify right away, "though I didn't know it at the time." E'dre listens with a stony expression and his posture is so still that the anger is noticeable in it. He steeples his fingers together and presses his thumbs against his lips as his elbows rest on the desk. His eyes never leave N'rov as he finishes his explanation. He doesn't immediately respond. When he does, he informs the bronzerider, "I grounded Nala. Do you feel I should punish you equally?" "No." It's not a defense; none of it has been. Even the question of knowledge, or that he tried to shut her and it down, was set out as information rather than an attempt to exculpate. "You could send me back there," N'rov points out. "Something more useful than just sitting around." "Send you back where?" E'dre demands, not immediately drawing to the conclusion of the hold but when he does he frowns. "I don't want our time continued in aiding the holders. N'muir took his chosen time there. I see no point in your returning as something useful." He shifts in his chair again, giving his shoulders a brief shake to regroup. "What would you do, if two of your riders behaved as you and Nala did?" Whether he believes N'rov to be a full participant or a victim in this has not been clearly stated, though his behavior may indicate his belief N'rov is more of one than the other. Good enough; N'rov accepts that with a nod. Without regard for his personal safety, he says dryly, "I'd be tempted to tie them up at the wrist." Evidently he's signing up for the 'full participant' slot. Better that than a victim, ever. "You're probably lucky," E'dre answers with a dry tone, "that I do not believe in public shaming. If I were K'del, for example, I'd have banished you both back into a weyrling class to re-learn the manners you each should've learned the first round." He shakes his head and sighs, his temper finally cooling as Wroth's presence begins to ebb out of boredom. "I heard you punched back," he finally tells N'rov, leaning back in his chair as he folds his arms in front of him. "You should've walked away." N'rov's got a loose shrug for that, although... "Yeah?" When E'dre gets to the rest, he will say this time, "She was already coming at me again. There wasn't time." Beat. "I kept it low." "Kept it low," E'dre sounds so civil it doesn't match the flash of anger in his eyes and the twitch of his brows. "A perfect, reasonable, response." He begins to tap his fingers on the desk as he eyes N'rov. "You're grounded. Vhaeryth and you are not to leave this Weyr. You are not permitted to do more than let him lift you to your ledge. That was the punishment I gave Nala." His eyes are steely as he challenges, "Will you complain about it?" Perfect, reasonable response: N'rov just looks at him, level rather than repentant. As for the grounding, "Utterly reasonable. How long?" "I haven't decided the length," E'dre tells him, shrugging. "I'm disappointed I have to do it to my newest wingsecond," he grinds that one in, giving N'rov a pointed look. "I suggest you take your time to review the records and reports of those before you and learn something in the time you're on the ground. C'stian will have to pick up your slack." He looks towards the door and back to N'rov. "You're dismissed." "That I apologize for," N'rov tells him straight out. Which doesn't mean he doesn't say, "You'd be more disappointed if one of us were bleeding. I'll make it up to C'stian." Or try. He'll have to look over those records, too. As he's standing, "Sir." He doesn't let the tapestry hit his ass on the way out. |
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